In My Arms
by SaneYaoiAddict
Summary: While Matt is at the store, Mello hears the news: Matt's death date is rapidly approaching. Knowing he can't stop it, he devotes the rest of the time he has with Matt to spending as much time as possible with him.
1. Chapter 1

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. While I had hoped it was Matt, back from the store with his cigarettes, I was disappointed to find my subordinate standing on the other side of the doorway in his place.

I sighed and let him into my office, one of the rooms I spent most of my time in—other than my bedroom, which I shared with Matt under the premise of protecting him from the thugs living here as well. I was too distracted to place his name at the moment; I didn't even care. He wasn't Matt—that was all I needed to know.

All I remembered, once the ferocity of my anger dulled to minor irritation—the kind I had, and was used to, day in, day out, from my "job"—was that he had the Shinigami eyes. And I had told him to alert me to any impending deaths, especially those of the ones closest to me.

"This had better be important. I was _clearly _busy," I said, knowing I wasn't.

"Of course you were, Sir," he said, obviously not believing my lie. Not because I was a bad liar—I'd lied since I could talk—but because the state of the room contradicted my words.

Still, I shot him a cold glare. How dare he challenge the validity of my words!

"What was your name?" I asked, though the tone of my voice indicated _I don't give a fuck, get out! _

"Jack, Sir. Jack Neylon."

I smirked. "Of course it was."

He had knew reply. I _knew _it was a fake name, but I didn't want to bother asking for his real one. I had no use for it at the moment—and if I wanted to know it, I had access to all the records.

He hated me, I could tell. And it made me all the more amused that he kept calling me "Sir." Especially since I was a good ten or twenty years younger than him.

"Why are you in here?" I demanded, in the most bored, uninterested voice I could muster at the moment. Maybe if I at least _acted _like I had things to do, he would leave me alone.

"It's about _him, _Sir. The one you forced—er, asked us to protect."

It amused me to no end that he obviously _loathed _me, yet tried to remain respectful, likely out of fear of punishment. I would have threatened him with my fun, or even shoot him in the leg, but his mention of Matt sobered me. I was completely serious—Matt _could not _be in danger.

"What about him? You _did _make sure to protect him when he left?" I asked, not faking the harsh tone of my voice. If _anything _happened to him…

"N-no, Sir! But while I was tailing him, I noticed…"

I was relieved, but didn't allow myself to show it. They knew I was attached to him, but if they knew _how _attached, they might kill him to hurt me. They still might, but while they were afraid of me retaliating, and my harsh command, they wouldn't disobey me. As long as I kept showing my fierce side, rather than the soft feelings Matt brought out.

"Yes?" I asked, pretending to be too interested for a proper interrogation while inside, I was worried, while my heart pounded.

_What? What happened? _

Obviously, Matt wasn't _dead, _since I didn't assign Jack to him today, but still, I was concerned.

I wondered why he would only tell me _now _if it was so important; I had assigned Jack to him last week, not today. But Matt was gone—it was likely he didn't want to risk him hearing what he had to say, or interrupt my time with him.

Smart man.

"His… Life span, sir. It… Terminates in January."

Though I had struggled throughout this conversation to remain calm and composed—by which I mean angry and threatening—I looked at him, terrified.

"_This _January?"

I was wide—eyed, fearful, _shocked. _I couldn't believe it. January was only two months away! Matt couldn't _die _so soon!

Much to my bewilderment and fury, and simultaneous heartache, he _nodded._

No. No! _No!_

My heart _shattered. _Matt couldn't _die. _No, it wasn't _real! _I didn't want to believe it! I wasn't ready to lose him!

"Yes, Sir. I'm… Sorry?"

He was trying to _placate _me. To _soothe _me, like a _child. _

"No, you aren't," I growled, glaring, barely resisting the urge to put a bullet through his skull. It would take ten seconds to take his life away…

"Are you _sure?_"

"Yes."

"What… day, what time?"

I was hopeless. It broke my heart to say those words, but it devastated me even more to hear the answer. He was my best friend, since I was six or seven. Maybe even longer; it had been so long it was hard to tell, sometimes. But I would always remember meeting him.

And I'd loved him all that time.

But now it was _useless! _My feelings were completely unrequited; I'd determined that when he brought home the one girlfriend he managed to get through the course of his life. He would _never _love me back, and now it was too late to even know if he ever _thought _about being with me, with his impending death.

"The 26th, at 10:36 PM. I saw it myself, above his head. I… Hate to be the one to tell you this."

_Only because you know I'm armed, _I added bitterly, but only in my mind. I bit my tongue to keep _that _from slipping out. I still had the urge to draw out my gun and shoot him in the center of the forehead.

"Ger out," I said harshly, watching his expression change to one of confusion. Stupid. He was so _stupid, _and I hated him.

_Why _wasn't he _gone _already?

"Get out and never tell anybody about this. Don't tell Matt about his…"

My voice wavered. I was about to break down, and he was still _here. _

I couldn't bear to think, let alone say, the word "death." It was just too painful.

He finally understood and left, shutting the door behind him. I locked the door behind him, pissed off because he didn't do it himself. I didn't care that my door only locked from the inside. He should have locked it.

And when the door was locked again, I buried my head in my hands and slumped down to the floor, allowing the tears to fall.

_**Sorry, you have to wait for an update! :] It shouldn't be more than a week, though. :] **_

_**Reviews would be greatly appreciated. :] **_


	2. Chapter 2

_If I die young,_

_Bury me in satin._

_Lay me down on a bed of roses,_

_Sink me in the river at dawn._

_Send me away with the words of a love song. _

—_The Band Perry, "If I Die Young."_

"I think we should kidnap Takada next week," Matt suggested. "It's our best chance."

I felt all the blood in my body run cold. I never should have made the plan in the first place—he found it, the most dangerous one, before I had the chance to hide it, and said it would be our best shot to bring down Kira.

But I didn't want to have a plan at all. I wanted to stay with him. The plans required us to separate, but no one should have to die alone—so I called them off.

"No," I said. "I don't want to risk it."

It was true. I knew he would die if we went with the plan, but I knew he would die either way. And while going through with it would save the world… I was selfish. I'd rather be with Matt while I could than save the world from a tyrant killing innocent people every day, under the premise of killing the corrupted. I was likely to be included in those steadily increasing numbers any day now.

Still, I would be with Matt during his last moments, rather than save the world and myself with it.

"Promise me we don't go through with it," I pleaded.

"Okay." He just shrugged and resumed his game.

A week later, at precisely 10:30—I made sure all the clocks in our shared apartment, where Matt and I lived after the hideout exploded, were set _exactly _right, down to the millisecond—I started talking to Matt. I'd been with him all day, but although many things were weighing on my mind, things I desperately wanted to tell him, I didn't want to scare him. But it was almost too late, and I knew I'd regret it forever if I didn't tell him.

"I've loved you since we were at Wammy's…And always will."

My words startled him out of his game, causing his character to die. It filled me with fear and made me want to vomit. 

_ Would he die like that? _

I did the best I could to save him from a painful, violent death—I was armed, so if a robber broke in, I could protect him. I even kept him away from the dairy—he was lactose intolerant, but still drank milk sometimes, anyway.

"I just…wanted to tell you," I finished rather stupidly.

"Why tell me now?" he asked after a moment of silence, letting the words sink in. "Tonight's just like any other."

_No. No it isn't, Matt. _

How could he say that?

I should have told him earlier.

10:33.

No. Not now.

"It seemed like a good time."

No. It was the worst possible timing. It would have been better to tell him all those years ago, when there was excess _time _to spend. Not _now, _of all the chances I had in the past.

10:34.

I threw my arms around him, knowing he didn't feel the same. But he didn't resist.

"Could I get just one kiss? It's all I've wanted, for so long."

I looked him in the eyes, pleading. I didn't want to kiss him if he didn't want it, but I didn't know what to do if he refused.

"Why…Why me?" He was definitely caught off guard by my confession.

"There are so many reasons."

_But I have no time to say them. Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Matt. You deserve better, deserve to know why. I had this whole speech planned for you, but never said it._

_ God, I'm so sorry, Matt._

He didn't stop me as I pressed my lips to his, as I pulled him closer and tangled my fingers in his hair, or even as I parted his lips with my tongue.

He trapped his arms loosely around me, as well, but didn't kiss me back.

For the mere moments allowed, I was _alive, _gloriously holding the love of my life and kissing him, cherishing the moment and the warmth of his body. Even if we had all the time in the world, I couldn't have asked him for more; I _finally _had the chance to hold the man I loved! For so many years, wasted in retrospect, not held closely enough, it was all I had wanted.

And, for a brief moment before fate tore us apart, I finally had everything I wanted in the world. My life was complete.

But then it was over, cut short. I knew it couldn't last.

I could feel the moment he died, the moment he drew his very last breath. I felt the gradual slowing of his once frantically-beating heart until it finally stopped. I just _knew _when his eyes closed for the very last time, as the life faded out of him.

I just knew when he died.

And at that moment, I wept. How could he just… _die? _How could he be alive one moment and dead, still in my arms, the next?

I loosened my grip on his body—I refused to call him a _corpse_—and wriggled my way out of his cold, unfeeling embrace.

Though two months ago I began preparing for this moment, I still couldn't _believe _it had happened.

He was _dead. Matt _was _dead. _

With a gentle motion, I pushed the hair out of his eyes, more out of need to _feel _him again than anything: to feel his warm skin, generating heat, the coarse texture of his hair…

But now his skin was cold, lifeless. His heart no longer beating, no longer pumping warm blood throughout his body.

He was dead. Lifeless. _Gone. _

And I felt so guilty. I didn't let him do what he wanted. Instead, I selfishly stole his last moment, his last _day, _for my own. I forced him to spend his last moments holding me, _kissing _me, when he didn't even _love _me.

And with a stabbing pain in my heart, as the realization that he really was _gone _sank in, that I stole his final moments from him, I thought, _I should have made his last moments special. _

_**I've been looking forward to writing this for the longest time. I always thought the best kinds of stories are "holding a dead body in the rain." And while it isn't raining…It's close. **_

_**But I hope you all enjoyed this, and I would love it if you reviewed this. :] **_


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